


all that glitters

by stevebuckiest



Series: skirt steve [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Drag Queens, Eye Contact, Eyeliner, Fluff, M/M, Makeup, Queer History, aha! this time it’s bucky’s turn for some self expression!, but its still there, gender expression, its a crime i know, kind of, mere mentions of the skirts, ok full disclosure, the bj was a plot device so it isnt very explicit, they talk about them at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26540530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: It might be odd to other people how easily the idea and suggestion of this went down between them- two guys from the forties, now both publicly paraded about as macho Alpha-males who like to punch shit- but really, this is nothing odd for them, even if it is a bit new in this specific context. In truth, Steve doing makeup is a familiar thing to both of them over all.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: skirt steve [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918360
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	all that glitters

**Author's Note:**

> i really added the bj scene in here last minute as a bit of a plot device to emphasize how men liking things like skirts/lingerie/nail polish/makeup/etc can be present or a part of sex without inherently being a sexual or fetishized thing (yes i am projecting my own feelings), but i like the way it turned out a lot. this series has been pretty steve centric because i am so desperate for gnc/expressive steve content (hence the series title) but i figured bucky deserves some love too and showing how they mutually support each others’ endeavors and explore them together makes me happy :) i hope you enjoy!

As much as Steve Rogers is an impatient, impulsive firecracker of a man, Bucky Barnes considers himself to be somewhat the opposite. 

That’s not to say they don’t have much in common when it comes to their personalities- Christ, everyone and their mother knows that the two of them are just as stubborn as the other, or as Natasha would say ‘just as dumb’. They’re been best friends since childhood- soulmates just as long- so it only makes sense that they’re pretty much two peas in a pod, shared lives and shared qualities wrapped up in each other so tight you can barely tell the difference, but Bucky also knows that while they are sometimes one in the same...they also can be more like puzzle pieces. They give and take where the other is needing, fit together better than anything because of how it helps them compliment each other.

For example: Steve Rogers hates waiting and asking for help more than almost anything, but Bucky has no problem with it. He’s a goddamn sniper, after all. His boyfriend might be the hotshot super soldier that’s supposed to lead the charge, but Bucky- while a super soldier himself- likes taking somewhat of a back seat now that he has a choice in the matter again. He’s used to waiting.

As for the other part- they’d been so poor growing up, Steve so sick so often that Bucky’s long since ditched the notion of being ashamed about asking for help when needed. It’s what had kept Steve alive back then. It’s what had kept _him_ alive in the new century after he came back from the dead, head full of minefields he couldn’t risk stepping on.

Of course, the situation he’s finding himself in right now to display both of these qualities is nothing near as life and death as that, but Bucky still kind of considers it pretty important (at least to him, anyways). 

He huffs and dumps his supplies on the couch- listen, he might be patient but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get _frustrated._ Then, blowing a strand of his hair out of his face, he plants his hands on his hips and turns towards the kitchen where Steve is getting a glass of water. 

He doesn’t look busy, so Bucky doesn’t hesitate to call out to him, “Hey, Steve?”

Steve swallows the sip he had just taken, draining the cup, and sets it down on the counter before looking over at Bucky. “Yeah?”

Bucky sighs and rubs a hand over his newly cleaned up face- those wipes had said eye safe but Bucky thinks they were _lying-_ “Can I have some help?” It’s a bit of a rhetorical question- Bucky knows damn well Steve isn’t going to say _no_ to him.

Sure enough, Steve nods and steps toward him without Bucky even having to specify help with _what._ He still asks though, even as he’s crossing to room to accept the request. “What’s up, Buck?”

Even standing in front of Bucky, the couch back is still high enough for Steve to have to peek over when Bucky gestures down with his flesh hand towards what he’d dumped earlier onto the cushions. Steve blinks when he registers what the pile is, eyebrows slightly raised in both recognition and surprise. “Oh.”

 _Oh_ , indeed. Bucky smiles slightly at the expression on Steve’s face, confused but a little bit excited as he looks back up at Bucky. “Yeah,” Bucky says, a tad bemused. 

Steve tilts his head. “Is this for you or for me?” He doesn’t sound fazed either way. 

The _this_ in question is a pack of those damn ‘eye safe’ cleansing wipes, two small brushes that are a bit different from what Steve uses in his studio, a small black compact, and most importantly: about three different types of black eyeliner. Hey, Bucky wanted _options_ to try out. Which was obviously the right choice, because he has no idea what the _hell_ he is doing.

But that’s okay, because they both know that Steve does. 

He clears his throat and adjusts his hands on his waist. “Well, you’re welcome to use it for yourself if you want, but right now-“ he pauses and searches Steve’s face. “Was thinking maybe you could help put it on me?”

Steve doesn’t miss a beat, just smiles brightly and braces a thick forearm on the couch to push himself up and hop over it until he’s bouncing onto the cushions where the pile of Bucky’s supplies aren’t placed, settling down into a criss-cross position with a fluid motion that shouldn’t be as cute to Bucky as it is. _Show off_.

Looking up at Bucky, he gestures for him to sit down across from him, sweeping the pile of supplies a bit closer to himself so Bucky will have enough room. “Take a seat and I’ll see what I can do.” Laughing at the theatrical tone, Bucky does. 

It might be odd to other people how easily the idea and suggestion of this went down between them- two guys from the forties, now both publicly paraded about as macho Alpha-males who like to punch shit- but really, this is nothing odd for them, even if it is a bit new in this specific context. In truth, Steve doing makeup is a familiar thing to both of them over all. 

What _is_ a bit odd, Bucky thinks, is the idea that so many people seem to have about queer people from older times and how _apparently_ they all lived lonely, unhappy, isolated lives where they didn’t express themselves because they considered themselves freaks and treated being gay as some sort of dirty secret to be shared with no one. 

There’s a few sentiments there that Bucky can acknowledge as semi-true- or applicable, at least. The loneliness of internalized shame and fear is something he was well versed in with himself in the beginning, and he knows that it was a feeling almost impossible for everyone like him to avoid considering they lived in a time where being gay or any sort of queer was an offense that could get you landed in jail.

He’s aware better than almost anyone still alive that it’s likely that a large number of queer people back then lived their entire lives closeted or feeling like they had to hide alone, which is something heartbreaking, but _Christ._ They didn’t all suffer the same fate. Even if it was mostly in silence and under wraps, there was a community along with all the injustice and the suffering, and Bucky and Steve were as much of a part of that as they are a part of the community today.

Drag queens, gay bars, unofficial marriages, magazines- even back then, they existed. That’s just history. Bucky thinks it’s strange- and a bit disrespectful to the people who fought for their lives to be a part of it- that a lot of people today don’t acknowledge that. 

It was by no means perfect or anything close to good, but Bucky and Steve were happy with each other, and they weren’t alone. They had connections, friends, places they liked to go when they felt they could indulge in the risk. 

One of those connections and places was a bar right down the street from them- Brooklyn has always been someone of a queer haven, even back then. Steve, both as an aspiring artist and spitfire young man with a boyfriend, liked to go down there and do makeup for the queens whenever he could, usually dragging Bucky to go with him.

It was a way not only for the two of them to be involved with their community (well, fine, Bucky didn’t do much but have a lot of fun gossiping while Steve used him as a chair to sit on while working) but also was a way for Steve to work with soft things on a different type of canvas, not to mention another odd job for him to earn a few extra dollars with. He was an amateur, but he got pretty good by the time Bucky shipped off. 

Which is exactly why Bucky has chosen to ask _him_ rather than Natasha or Wanda for help with this. He knows Steve is good at this and enjoys it- not to mention it’s his boyfriend. While he trusts their friends not to judge him, for the first time he tries this out, he wants it to be something he only shares with Steve.

Steve, who is sitting on the couch looking at him with a dopey grin on his face that Bucky can’t help but lean in and kiss. He can taste the strawberry chapstick Steve’s got on (the serum never did quite take care of chapped lips), licking his own after he pulls back and swiping a thumb over the corner of Steve’s mouth where he can see the sheen of it smudged. His finger comes back pink, and he looks at Steve with a smirk. 

“Is this tinted?” he teases. He knows it is from the way Steve flushes nearly the same color and rolls his eyes. “Trying to make those lips look extra pretty and pink for me, Stevie?”

Steve huffs and shifts himself closer to Bucky, legs stretching out until they bracket his hips and he can swing himself up, weight braced on his elbows so he can move right over the pile of supplies between them and plop onto Bucky’s lap. Bucky lets out a slight noise of surprise, hefty weight of Steve leaning him back against the arm of the couch, both hands automatically tucking against his waist while Steve’s socked feet do the same behind Bucky.

Once he’s settled, Steve grins crookedly. “Brave thing to say to the man about to do your makeup, Barnes,” he says. 

“Just eyeliner for now,” Bucky shoots back. “We’ll see about the rest later.” That last bit is tentative- honestly, Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll end up wanting that, even if he knows Steve is more than fine with giving it to him. 

As much as he always loved doing makeup, Steve never was exactly the type to wear it much (although Bucky’s pretty sure he wears powder and lip tint sometimes, usually when they’ve got to make a public appearance or go on television). Bucky never was either before, but now- well, he thinks it would be nice to try. He knows Steve finds peace and comfort through self expression similar to this- the skirts have been a constant outlet for that since the forties- and Bucky...well, he thinks that it would be nice to have something like that.

He never felt like he was able to have it before, too many backwards notions in his head about being the breadwinner and focusing on providing for him and Steve to have much thought for that type of indulgence, but now he thinks that he can afford it. After all he’s been through- shit, he _deserves_ to be able to feel a little pretty. He deserves to have something private that he wants for himself. 

So, yeah. Eyeliner is a go, but he’s still tentative on the rest. Stabbing himself in the eye with the pencil and ending up looking like he got punched once was enough for him to realize he doesn’t have a clue what to do or what he likes yet. But that’s fine, because that’s what he’s got Steve for, right?

Well. He’s got him for a lot of other things too, but helping Bucky learn how to do eyeliner is the most pressing right now. 

Speaking of pressing, that’s what Steve is currently doing down on his lap right now while he tucks Bucky’s hair behind his ears, studying his face unabashedly fond. It’s nice, but it’s also distracting, and they have things to do. 

Bucky clears his throat and adjusts his hands on Steve’s hips to hold him up. “So, my first attempt was...less than stellar, I’ll admit,” he begins. “Hence why I’m asking you for help.”

“Yeah?” Steve raises his eyebrows. He brushes a thumb under Bucky’s eye where there’s probably still traces of the makeup. “You end up looking like a raccoon?”

Bucky glares mockingly. “Was always a good enough look for the Solider,” he retorts. Steve’s face immediately gets all kicked puppy at the intended teasing, which Bucky can’t have. He pulls Steve closer and drops his head forward to kiss his shoulder before Steve can start apologizing. He knows Steve gets sensitive about this kind of stuff. “I was kidding, you moron,” Bucky sighs, playing up the exasperation to lighten the mood. “I’ve got jokes, you can laugh at ‘em, you know.”

Steve settles, placated by the kiss, and squints at Bucky when he lifts his head back up. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I’ll only laugh if they’re _funny_ , Barnes. Now tell me more about what we’re going for here?”

Bucky hums and reaches behind Steve to grab at the eyeliners he bought- a pot, a pencil, and some sort of liquid pen- to bring them around between them and show Steve. “I got these,” he tells him. 

He doesn’t mention he’s had them for weeks after he picked them up on a pharmacy run for lube (hey, the serum stamina makes them burn through _ridiculous_ amounts), stowing them away until he worked up the nerve to pull them out. It’s not that he was intentionally hiding it from Steve or is shy about wanting it- he just...needed some time to get around to it first. 

Steve nods and touches the packaging of the unopened pot. “I saw you had some brushes and a palette behind you. You want me to use those too?”

Bucky considers. He’d gotten the eyeshadow mostly just because that’s what he was under the impression went with eyeliner most of the time, but he knew he wouldn’t know how to use it. If Steven’s offering, though… “Yeah,” he says. “Might as well, right?”

Steve smiles and kisses him again, strawberry sweet. “Might as well. Hand them to me?”

“You got it, sunshine.” Bucky reaches around again and does as he’s told, placing the bundle of brushes and the compact on Steve’s lap so he can pop it open and look at the colors inside. 

It’s nothing special, just a four panned little quad of dark colors- a deep plum shade, a charcoal gray, matte black, and a silver shimmer that Bucky thinks looks like stardust. He’d liked how the colors looked in the store. Steve dips his fingers into it almost immediately and brushes it against the underside of his arm, admiring how it looks in the light. 

“Could probably manage a smokey eye out of this,” Steve hums. “Won’t be my best work since I’m a little out of practice, but I think it’ll do.”

Bucky smiles and lets Steve cup his cheek, stubble scratching against his palm. “I’m sure you’ll make me look beautiful,” he jokes.”

Steve squeezes his chin until his dimple folds over, eyes playfully narrowed. “You’re already beautiful, Buck, don’t fish for compliments.”

“I don’t have to fish,” Bucky retorts best he can with Steve still clutching his jaw. “You love me.”

“I do,” Steve says. He picks up one of the brushes Bucky handed him and taps him on the nose with it, laughing when Bucky wrinkles it up. “Now let’s get to work.”

“Roger that, Cap. You want me any particular way?”

“Every way,” Steve says absentmindedly, tilting Bucky’s head back while he rolls his eyes. “This should be good. You’ll have to close your eyes and try to keep still. It’ll feel a bit funny at first.”

“I’m a sniper, sweetheart. Keeping still is my main skill.”

“Yeah? Tell it to your eyeballs, Buck. Shut ‘em for me, please.”

Bucky does, and for a few seconds he can’t feel anything but Steve’s hand dropping from his face in order to what sounds like open the palette. He’s not exactly _nervous_ , per se, but Bucky holds his breath a little during the moments of waiting. He’s watched Steve do this on a million men before, but something about it being _him_ this time feels a lot different. 

He’s afraid he won’t like it, maybe? He _wants_ to like it. 

He’s a little caught up in his head by the time Steve’s hand comes up to grip his chin again, but he doesn’t have time to linger on the thoughts any longer before Steve is murmuring “ _alright, I’m gonna get started_ ” and Bucky can feel the first touch of the brush against his eyelid. 

It does feel a little funny, like Steve said, but after the first few smooth motions Bucky actually thinks it feels a little nice. Soothing. The brush is soft and Steve’s touch is softer, voice just as gentle when he starts talking. 

“Since we’re going for something simple, I might as well give you a few tips along the way, huh?” Bucky hums and lets Steve switch to the other eye. “I started out with the gray in your crease. Probably’ll make your eye color pop a little- you use motions just like this to work the shadow in. I’m gonna buff this out later with the purple, but the key for looks like this is pretty much all in the blending.”

“Sounds like a lot of work on your end,” Bucky says. “Feels nice, though.”

“Doing makeup on other people is always a little more work, but I’ve always been more used to that anyways,” Steve says. He leans in and kisses Bucky’s lips chastely before going right back to working. “Can’t believe I never used you as a test subject before, all the practice I put in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Bucky asks. It’s not meant to be a loaded question, not really, but Bucky guesses there is a little built up wonder behind it. He’d never asked, but Steve had never offered the way he’d always been pestering Bucky to pose and assist with all his other art projects. 

Bucky’s posed for him in the buff, but hadn’t ever had Steve so much as approach him with a lipstick. 

Steve pauses for a moment. “I guess I kind of thought you wouldn’t want me to,” he admits. “Not because of anything you said...I don’t know, really. _Would_ you have wanted me to?”

Bucky is the one who has to take a moment this time, silent while Steve switches to what feels like little circular motions against his brow bone. “I think I might've wanted you to,” he finally answers. “But I’m not sure I would have been _able_ to want it at the same time, if that makes sense.” Way to go, internalized issues. 

Steve shifts on his lap and squeezes his legs tighter around Bucky’s waist, like a makeshift hug while he can’t use his hands. Bucky laughs and squeezes his waist as well. “That makes sense,” Steve says softly. “Was a different time, and all. We got plenty of that to make up for.”

Bucky would nod if he could move his head. “This is a good start on this front, I think,” he says. “How’s it coming along?”

“Open your eyes for a sec and let me see how it looks.” Bucky does. Steve’s face immediately melts a little, a fact that Bucky can’t help but smile at, eyes crinkling in a way that feels a little funny with the shadow covering it. 

“Good?” he asks. He hopes so. 

Steve nods and tilts his head. “You look very...striking.” Bucky gives him a look and Steve huffs. “You wanna look for yourself?”

Bucky considers, fingers tapping at Steve’s sides. “Nah,” he eventually says. “Might as well save it for the big reveal.”

Steve snorts and lets Bucky kiss him. “Always got a flair for the dramatics, huh? Maybe I shoulda done your makeup back in the forties. You would have been a _hell_ of a drag queen, attitude like yours.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows at him. “ _Me_?” he says incredulously. “Stevie, as much as I loved all of the queens down at Paddy’s, I can’t see myself fitting in with them.” He pauses. “Besides, I can’t pull skirts off near as well as you can.”

Steve grins and wiggles around a little in Bucky’s lap, just like he’d done back in the day when he was doing makeup on the queens in question and using Bucky as his chair. “Don’t knock it til you try one on,” he teases. “I got plenty that could fit even over those thighs of yours.”

“You trying to say something about my thighs, Rogers? Be careful, you’re sitting on them right now, after all.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I love your thighs, you know that,” he says, flushing slightly at Bucky’s crooked smile. He’s right. Bucky does know that, it’s impossible not to with how much Steve is always trying to get between them. Doesn’t mean he can’t tease, though.

He pinches at the meat of Steve’s hip. “If those skirts of yours can fit over your ass, I’m sure my thighs will be no problem,” he hums. 

For some reason, that makes Steve sober up a little. “They could,” Steve says softly. His voice is a little hopeful, and Bucky realizes what this is. 

Steve’s trying to tell him it’s okay if he wants to try out more of this stuff than just the eye makeup. Stuff like he does, with the skirts and the more delicate clothes. The thought of it makes Bucky’s stomach and face warm, both at how sweet Steve is about all this and how open it’s making Bucky feel about himself. He realizes- even if he doesn’t end up liking the eyeshadow or the skirts (if he chooses that- he’s not sure he wants to encroach upon something that’s just _Steve’s_ yet), it won’t matter. He’s let himself afford this attempt at self expression, and that’s the truly important thing. He never would have even been able to consider trying this in the forties, but he can now. 

Following through on that, he closes his eyes again with a faint smile. “Back to it, sunshine. Work your magic on me.”

Steve laughs. “You got it, Buck.” Once he picks the brush back up and goes back in on Bucky’s eyes, he starts talking again. “I still think you’d be a good drag queen, you know. Got a name right in the obvious and everything.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says, bemused. “What name is that.”

Steve pauses in his blending to lean in towards Bucky’s ears with a whisper: “Bucksome Barnes.”

Bucky laughs so hard that Steve for the first time has to tell him to hold still, although he sounds like he’s laughing too. “Jesus, Stevie. Out of the two of us, I’d say you’re the one with the bigger chest, don’t you think?” He slides his hands up to lay over the chest in question. 

Steve lets out an indignant noise when Bucky thumbs over his nipples through his t-shirt, but keeps on working anyways. “You’re still broader than me,” he insists. “Just because you try to hide it in hoodies doesn’t mean that I haven’t noticed. Hard _not_ to when you stretch out all my henleys.”

“Sure hope you’d notice what I look like shirtless,” Bucky teases, patting Steve’s left pec. “You like it, anyways.”

Steve dips back in with a few final touches to Bucky’s brow bones. “I do,” he says. “Buck- c’mon, quit groping me, I’m getting distracted.”

Bucky relents on kneading his hands over Steve’s chest and drops them back down to his hips instead, patting around until he finds a good position. “Fine. Wouldn’t want to mess up the masterpiece.”

“Masterpiece might be a bit of a stretch,” Steve murmurs. “I’ve finished with the crease, so I’m gonna go in with the dark shade now and pack it on to your lid so I can blend that out into the other colors already laid down.” 

Bucky yawns when Steve drops his hand to dip back into the palette. It’s cute hearing Steve lecture on like this, earnest and helpful, but sitting so still with his eyes shut makes him a little sleepy. “Pack?” he says absently. “What’s that? I don’t know the fancy lingo, Rogers, share with the class please.”

Steve sighs dramatically and Bucky just _knows_ he’s rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get some extra shadow on the brush and stamp it onto your lids for better color. Then I can pop the excess under your eyes to smoke it out and work on the eyeliner.” Bucky gives him a thumbs up to show he understands and Steve comes up to hold his chin again, brush pressing in a bit firmer against his lids. “The eyeliner is the tricky part,” he murmurs. “Because it’s so close to your actual eye, everyone always gets a little twitchy. But Mr. Super Sniper, you’ll be fine, right?”

Bucky would roll _his_ eyes if he could. “As long as you don’t stab me in the eye I’ll be okay, sweetheart. I already did that to myself once today, don’t need to do it a second.”

Steve laughs and moves to the other eye. “I’ll try not to.”

Bucky smiles and tries not to let his eyes crinkle too much. “I trust you.”

“Remember saying that when I’ve got a sharp object pressed up by your eye.”

Bucky squeezes his hip. “So you’re going with the pencil one, then? I wasn’t sure which one would be easiest so I kind of just...got the ones I could see.”

Steve goes back into Bucky’s crease again with a light hand, presumably to blend. “I haven’t used a liquid liner since we didn’t have those back in the day,” he says. He starts swiping the brush under Bucky’s eyes while he talks, soft material of the hairs tickling a little on the more sensitive skin. “But pot liners are for wings and more complicated stuff. Pencils are better for simple things, I’m gonna just pop it in your waterline. Like I did a million times with Zelda, remember? Or were you too busy gossiping with the queens the whole time to watch what I was really doing?”

He’s offering Bucky an out from confirming the memory by teasing. As good as Bucky is with remembering generalized facts about them and their lives- he’s still not so good as specific occasions and details, sometimes. But this one he remembers, if not because of all the therapy, because the queen in question Steve is talking about had a personality about seven states wide.

He snorts. “Considering Zelda screeched like an alley cat every time you made a mistake with it in the beginning, I remember.” Then, flicking Steve’s nipple with a freed hand when the blonde takes a pause from buffing, “Don’t pretend you didn’t like to gossip too.”

Steve makes an indignant little noise at the sting, but huffs after. “Yeah, but not as much as you did, though,” he insists. “Swear you had enough dirt on everyone there to run the whole place down _outside_ of being able to turn ‘em in to the cops.”

It’s a bit of a morose joke, considering how the fear of ending up in jail and being marked queer kept them from going to the club in the first place on several occasions, but...they’re through it. And hearing Steve talk about the old days is just as nice as hearing him ramble about blending eyeshadows being similar to shading sketches. 

Bucky gives him a breathy little laugh and leans into it when Steve lets go of his face to brush his hair away. 

“There,” Steve says. “Only thing left is the eyeliner now. Open your eyes, please, and I swear to _god_ , Buck- hold still when I go in for this. I’m not having you ruin all my hard work.”

Bucky blinks his eyes open and immediately gives Steve a playful glare. “That a threat?”

“That’s a fact, Barnes,” Steve scoffs, uncapping the pencil Bucky fell casualty to earlier. “I didn’t give myself a wrist cramp blending just for you to ad lib some editorial lines on my work without my permission.”

“You used to do five queens in a row without needing a break, Stevie, what happened to all that stamina?” Bucky teases. 

Steve’s eyes narrow, even as he admires Bucky’s face and his own handiwork. “I’m out of practice,” he says. “And I guess my stamina has been busy recently focusing _elsewhere_.” He rocks his hips down on the last work just to make Bucky let out a surprised breath at the sudden movement. “Now if you’re done, I’ll get back to adding the finishing touches to my masterpiece, yeah?”

Bucky takes a turn at brushing Steve’s hair out of his face this time. “Yeah, babydoll. Get to it.”

“Relax and try to keep looking up- if you don’t see my hand as much, you’ll flinch less.” Steve pauses, hovering close, pencil in hand. “I’m gonna pull down a bit on your cheek so the waterline shows more. It’ll be done in a few seconds max for each eye.”

“Okay,” Bucky exhales. “Christ, Stevie, you’re making this sound like a mission and not just makeup.”

“I’m trying to give you tips!” Steve says. “Fine- I’m just gonna go for it. Hold still.”

He’s slow about moving in so he doesn’t startle Bucky, but Bucky still doesn’t have long before Steve is doing exactly as he said he would- gently pulling Bucky’s lash line down, bringing the pencil up, and moving in to apply it along the line of his eye. Bucky doesn’t flinch or move back, although his eye does twitch a little- it’s not a bad experience.

He’s certainly had _worse_. It kind of tickles, actually. Feels a bit cold and uncomfortably wet, but as Steve promised- its only a few seconds before he lets Bucky’s cheek go and switches to the other eye to repeat the quick process. 

A moment later, Steve pulls away and snaps the cap of the pencil back on before leaning back to critique his work. His face is unabashedly fond while he does so, eyes proud. Of himself, Bucky, or both, Bucky isn’t sure. 

He decides to ask. “How does it look, Rembrandt?”

Steve jerks out of his little reverie of admiration to address his subject. “Oh, I have one more thing to add,” he says, popping the palette back open. “Hold on-“ He brushes his fingers back into the shimmery silver and brings his hand up to Bucky’s face. “Close, please.” Bucky smiles and does as he’s told one last time, the pad of Steve’s finger brushing gently over his lids to dust the silver on top. “Okay, now you’re good.”

Bucky opens again and is greeted by a very bright eyed Steve smiling at him. “Yeah?” he asks hopefully. 

Steve nods and brushes a thumb over Bucky’s cheek. “Beautiful,” he says softly. Then, “You wanna see?”

Bucky chews on his lip for a second- he still isn’t anxious but this feels like it’s going to be a significant moment, if not a big one. Still, he really _does_ want to see so- “Yeah,” he says finally. “I do.”

Steve smiles and leans forward to smack an encouraging kiss on his forehead. “Okay,” he murmurs back. “You really do look great, Buck.” And then, he’s handing Bucky the still opened compact so Bucky can hold it up to his face and get a good look at himself in the mirror. Bucky’s eyes dart over to Steve’s before he can bring himself to look, but with another happy smile from him, Bucky bites the bullet and locks eyes with himself in the reflection. 

_Oh._

His first thought is that man, do his eyes look _icy_. Steve had been right. The colors _do_ make his eyes pop, glittering extra gray under the silver shimmer on his lids amongst the stark darkness of the shadow surrounding them. His second thought is a bit more choked up- he feels _nice_. He _looks_ nice, face just as masculine as ever but like Steve said- also a bit more striking with his eyes more deep set in the shadow and shimmer catching the light every time he blinks. 

He had joked about it earlier, but the look is both painfully close and far away from the eye paint the Solider would wear on missions. The only real similarity is the color, but still, looking at it- how _pretty_ this thing that he gets to want and have is, especially when it mirrors something he’d been forced into before- it means a lot. The Solider never would have gotten something as pretty as this. 

The Solider never would have gotten something as pretty as a smiling Steve Rogers sitting on his lap, either, but now Bucky _isn’t_ the Solider and he actually gets to have both of those things. He’s suddenly immeasurably glad for it, carefully clicking the palette shut and tossing it behind Steve on the couch along with the rest of their supplies before looking at him with an expression Steve apparently can’t place. 

He gets as far as “Buck? Do you not li-“ before Bucky is kissing him quiet and wrapping him in for a hug that has Bucky leaning forward until Steve’s back is pressed against the couch just short of where the palette is sitting. 

Bucky pulls back and gives Steve a soft smile. “I love it. And I love you, Steve, you know that?” he murmurs. “Thank you for doing this.”

Steve, still flushed from surprise and being trapped under Bucky, smiles back and wiggles an arm up to cup Bucky’s cheek. “I love you back. And thank _you_ for sharing this with me.” Bucky kisses him again, soft and sweet, and Steve rubs a thumb along his stubble when he breaks away. “You gotta cut the sappiness before you accidentally cry off all my hard work, Buck,” he teases lightly. His own voice is ironically a little hoarse, and Bucky raises an eyebrow. 

“Who’s crying, babydoll?” he says. Steve laughs, voice still thick, and Bucky gets a great idea. “Maybe I just want to try out a little makeup application of my own, yeah?”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He looks confused until Bucky wedges his flesh arm out to grab at the palette and flick it open with one hand, setting it back on the cushion so he can brush his fingers in the shade he wants same as Steve did before. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He brings his fingers up to wiggle between them, braced on one elbow. 

Steve’s eyes land on the silver covering Bucky’s hand that _isn’t_ usually that color and flick to his silently asking face. He smiles, happy and bashful. Then nods, closing his eyes. “Have at it.”

Bucky makes sure to keep his fingertips soft- the motions are clumsier than Steve’s were, but he’s going for effect rather than expertise right now. He smudges the sheen gently over Steve’s lids, noting the way a few of them fall onto his stupidly long lashes. Like stardust, he thinks. 

He clears his throat once he’s done and brushes Steve’s hair out of the way so he’ll be able to see the full effect (as if Steve’s eyes weren’t sparkling enough to begin with). “Open up.”

Steve does, and Bucky has to kiss him immediately with how gorgeous he looks like this- now just as bright and shiny as he is in Bucky’s eyes to begin with. The kiss is languid and lazy, both of them smiling into it until Steve finally breaks it with a laugh. 

“Buck, you’ve barely had time to look at yourself, c’mon!”

Bucky huffs and shifts over Steve so he can settle more comfortably into the vee of his legs. “So? Maybe I just wanted us to match.”

Steve looks up at him with a dumb, sappy grin. “Well, now we do.”

Bucky can’t help but pull out a wink, same one he used to use on Steve in the forties whenever he cracked a bad joke or wanted Steve to crack a smile. It works now, Steve grinning even wider, chapstick now completely kissed off but lips as pink and pretty as ever. 

“You’re a moron,” he informs him, legs squeezing his waist. “A moron with very pretty eyeshadow.”

“And a very pretty boyfriend who helped me do it,” Bucky says, ducking down to kiss him again. “Thank you again.” He kisses his nose after and lets his eyes crinkle at the shimmering slow-blink Steve gives him after. “I love you so much.”

“Love you back,” Steve says sappily sincere. Then, because he’s a little shit just as much as he’s Bucky’s best guy, “Now not to ruin the moment- but how about I give you a suckjob on the couch and let you _really_ appreciate the angles of this glitter?”

Bucky’s stomach swoops and he drops his head forward onto Steve’s shoulder, careful not to disturb his eyes. “Christ, Stevie. This your celebration present for me and my newly found self expression or what?”

Steve pretends to think. “No, it’s just because I’ve been sitting on your lap for an hour,” he decides. He gives Bucky a wink of his own when he lifts his head up that lets Bucky know he means the opposite. “You saying no?”

“Hell, sunshine, ‘course I’m saying yes.” Sitting back on his haunches so Steve can slide down to the floor, Bucky grins. “Guess you just can’t resist the smolder of my smoky eye, huh?”

Steve squints and lets Bucky tuck his thighs around either side of his shoulders, sweats already shoved down. “Technically I’m responsible for it, so it’s _mine_ ,” he says back. “But I’m willing to admit it’s an added bonus of it, even if it isn’t directly the reason why I like it.”

Bucky tugs on his hair affectionately while Steve kisses at the inside of his thighs. “And why do you like it?” He’s curious, even through the lazy arousal of having Steve between his legs. 

Steve only pauses for a second. “‘Cause you like it, and I like things that make you happy,” he says honestly. “Same reason why you like me in a skirt. It’s nice seeing you comfortable, and sometimes,” he bites at the meat of Bucky’s thigh where his briefs are riding up for emphasis, “That’s sexy. But mostly I just like it because it’s _you._ ”

Bucky feels a little choked up again, especially when Steve uses his silence as opportunity to wrangle his briefs down, hardening erection freed for Steve to grasp in hand. “Jesus, Stevie,” he finally manages. Steve just hums and kisses his tip, eyes already half lidded. He looks beautiful, even without the added glamour. “Way to throw an emotional interlude in when you’ve got me with my pants down, huh?”

Steve grins jauntily and lifts his free hand to squeeze at Bucky’s on the couch cushion. “That’s the best time for confessions,” he says. “Now, I love you, but I’m gonna shut up and suck your dick now.” He kisses his tip again and retracts his hand to guide Bucky’s towards his hair. “You can feel free to keep talking, though.”

“Fuck,” Bucky swears, head falling back against the cushion when Steve finally takes him in his mouth and gets to work on making good on his promise. “Can’t _think_ straight when you’re loving on me like this, you think I got much to say?”

The look Steve gives him from where he’s got his mouth full very clearly means _you always have something to say_ , which just makes Bucky let out a low chuckle that ends with a low sigh when Steve sucks at his tip.

“Yeah, I guess I could come up with something.” He fists a handful of Steve’s hair to gently guide him down a little more. “You’ve always got me running my mouth with how pretty you are. Luckiest bastard alive,” he groans, head of him bumping against the back of Steve’s velvety smooth throat. “Swear, Stevie. Landed the lottery when I got you to love me back.”

Steve moans in what Bucky assumes to be agreement, hand fumbling up to squeeze Bucky’s knee as if to say _me too_. Bucky smiles, eyes half lidded, and looks down to where Steve’s have fallen shut. 

“You’re right,” he rasps out. “This angle’s even better. Fuckin’ masterpiece, Rogers, shining so sweet for me- helping me so sweet- helping _everyone_ so sweet-“ He breaks off and jerks his hips up, Steve choking a bit at the motion before going with the flow and letting Bucky up the rhythm a bit to chase the high. “Make me a better man even when you’re taking me apart,” he says, smiling dreamily. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart, watch what you’re doing to me.”

Steve does, eyes shining extra blue under what Bucky has smudged on his lids. It’s that look- that same damn _look_ he’s been giving Bucky since he was a skinny thing perched on Bucky’s lap in secret bars, that he gives him _now_ when he’s sat on Bucky’s lap 100 pounds heavier and able to hold his hand in public- that sends Bucky over the edge after another round of frantic thrusting and Steve moaning prettily around him with his stretched out mouth. Maybe Bucky should care about drawing this out and making it last- but he doesn’t. He’s more than content to bask in the bliss Steve brings him. 

He means that in more ways than just the one, right now, but he will admit that Steve swallowing down his release is first on his mind until Steve eventually pulls off his cock with a final lick up the underside and kiss to his now-sensitive tip. 

Bucky lets his eyes close again once Steve tucks him back into his boxers and sweats, groping out with a blind hand for Steve to nuzzle into when he finally finds him. He’ll always find him. 

Steve’s the first one who breaks the lull, voice scratchy from his recent activity. “Feeling good?”

Bucky smiles, still not opening his eyes. “I’ll feel even better if you get back up here,” he replies. It only takes about ten seconds before he’s got a lap full of super soldier again, cuddled up against him and placing kisses on the soft skin under his eyes. There’s more silence before Bucky finally speaks up again. “Know it’s the third time I’ve said it,” Bucky says drowsily, “But thanks, Stevie.” He opens his eyes again and looks at him with a genuine expression only intensified by the pigment surrounding his eyes, a fact that only contributes to his next words. “Thanks for loving me for me. Things I wanna try and all.”

“I’ve always loved every bit of you, Buck,” Steve says softly. “How could I not when you’ve been doing that for me since the last century?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, just kisses Steve’s mussed up hair and rubs a thumb over his now swollen lips. Like Steve said, he’s not about to cry all his hard work off. “Looks like you need some more of that chapstick of yours,” he teases quietly. “Gonna put some of that on me as well?”

Steve grins and lets Bucky steer things back to lighter territory. “As long as you let me have a taste of it after. I have to test my subjects, after all.”

“Oh, I’m back to being one of your subjects now?” Bucky says. “Using me for unpaid artistic labor. A century of it no less.”

Steve grins. “I’ll pay you in kisses,” he responds. “You gonna let me sketch you in your smokey eye?”

Bucky laughs and cuffs Steve closer for a cuddle. “Sure, Stevie. Long as you make it look as good as the real deal.”

Steve kisses his chin, right over his dimple. “You’ll always be _my_ real deal. Best one around.”

“Oh, I’m a deal now, am I?”

Steve considers, head leaning against Bucky’s shoulder. “Nah, we’re more of a two in one thing. Soulmates and all.” He pats Bucky’s chest. “I think I’m gonna title my next sketch _Bucksome Barnes_. What do you think?”

Bucky groans and stretches, careful not to dislodge Steve from his shoulder. “You’re very lucky I love you.”

Steve smiles, as bright and shiny as his eyelids. “Yeah, I am. Now c’mon, Smokey Bear, I’ve got some more art to make.” 

**Author's Note:**

> as usual: i beg for feedback. it fuels me. any comments (that are not mean) are appreciated !!!


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